A Touch of Poetry
by Merely Corroborative Detail
Summary: Tamaki is just the kind of person Kyouya should hate. He's loud, outgoing, pompous, and at times downright obnoxious. Yet for some reason he invariably finds himself drawn towards the blond youth. Shonen-Ai and rampant quotations warning.


Kyouya strongly disliked the Suoh family estate. He didn't like to admit it –he never liked to admit strong feelings about anything- but it made him sick: it was so uselessly sumptuous and ostentatious he couldn't bear it. The Haninozuka mansion was certainly grand, but in an impersonal, elegant, traditionally Japanese way; idem for Morinonzuka, and obviously, Haruhi would never commit the sin of indulging in excess decorative luxury. And even the Hiatchin twins, who's house was very European in style, all colours and flourishes, didn't produce the effect Tamaki's mansion produced in Kyouya; after all, architecture of that estate might have been fickle indeed, but it was self-consciously so: a knowing waste of time, a mere entertainment.

Tamaki's mansion on the other hand, was the real Old European deal. Its essence was that of Buckingham Palace and Versailles. It wasn't grand as a game, as a relaxation, like, say, the pink half-neo-gothic/half-rococo architecture of Ouran Academy; it was grand as an ideology. Every golden ornament, every marble carving, every flourish on the Persian rugs was to be taken with utmost solemnity and seriousness; the architecture, though not centuries old, was charged with centuries of nobility, and glowed as if pomp and circumstance were its very essence and very essence of the world.

Perhaps this was why he hated the place so much; because of this shark contrast with his own no-nonsense high-tech modern house, and his own no-nonsense high-tech modern world. He had no time for useless flashing elegance, and considered it an excessive, not to mention disgustingly wasteful, decoration.

Now only one question remained for Kyouya as he sat down on a great velvet Louis XV chair:

If he hated the Suoh mansion so much, what on earth was he doing there almost every Sunday, including this one? It was very strange…

Tamaki came rushing down the staircase, and upon seeing him Kyouya barely held back a chuckle. The black-haired boy had come over to inspect the Host Club's costumes for this week, and he was expecting something over-the-top, but not that much.

"How do you like my new clothes, vice-president?" asked Tamaki a voice so pompous it seemed like he was making fun of himself.

"I believe the girls will like them," said Kyouya calmly.

He wasn't lying, of course; Kyouya never lied, and the girls would like anything if Tamaki was in it. But this suit was particularly ridiculous, and it became more obvious as Tamaki twirled around to show him.

It was really something: it somewhat resembled what a Roman toga would look like if it had been decorated by an eighteenth-century florist and then passed on to a jeweler with excess stock of everything. The drapery fell about almost senselessly everywhere, and there were so many frills and golden ornaments you didn't know exactly what the thing was supposed it be.

"It's my ancient Greek costume!" Tamaki declared "I'll buy some more for the rest of the club."

"Are you sure the ancient Greeks dressed like that?" Kyouya asked.

"Well," said Tamaki, reflectively "Not really, but I bought a costume, got it vamped up, and then had it replicated in the best silks."

"I see…" said Kyouya, "Well… do you want my sincere opinion?"

"Yes," said Tamaki.

"There's too much of it," declared Kyouya.

The blonde boy stared at him blankly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"The costume," said Kyouya "Excess of frills, excess of gold, excess of cloths; it looks nothing like anything a Greek would wear, or like anything anyone else would wear for that matter, except perhaps the protagonists in Sex and the City."

"Oh…" said Tamaki and he looked on the floor somewhat deceived.

Kyouya realized, though a tad too late, that perhaps he'd just cut off Tamaki's wings a bit to sharply. Sure it was a silly dress, but maybe then again shouldn't have been so harsh…

Well, he was sorry, but irritated him when the French boy indulged in such excesses!

"The girls will like it, though," he quickly added.

"Well," Tamaki said quietly looking up at Kyouya," I do have another costume… But I don't think you'll like it."

"What is it?" asked Kyouya somewhat sharply.

Now he was mad at Tamaki, because Tamaki had made him make Tamaki sad; emotions are very confusing… Though of course, none of this was very visible from the deadpan expression of his face, but.

"It's a more… authentic Greek costume," said Tamaki hesitantly "Would you like it if I tried it on?"

"Hm…" said Kyouya "As vice president, I suppose I should see all the options, so go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Tamaki, I am sure,"

Tamaki heard this and scurried off; Kyouya sat back in his chair, and thought a bit; that is, he was always thinking, but now he thought a bit more intensely.

Tamaki's house was perfectly suited to him, really. He was into useless grandeur, and he took it far too seriously; in fact, he took himself far too seriously as well, and God knew how uselessly grand he was. It was all a perfect waste… What did perfectly sensible people –they had to be perfectly sensible to keep up such fortunes- have with throwing away their money on these sickening, old-fashioned decorations? He was just as rich as Tamaki; perhaps a great deal richer. But he couldn't permit himself these things, he had work to do. Why was Tamaki such a fop, anyway? Did that kid have no idea how much all these things cost?

Kyouya grinned at his own thoughts; now he was just being mean. Hey… Maybe his own, cold, modern, super-efficient, super-sized modern mansion was suited to his personality as well…

As the vice-president was ruminating upon this, Tamaki came down the stairs. And at that point, even Kyouya's ruthless, relentless train of thought came to a grinding halt from what he saw, so impressive it was, and his heart almost stopped when he laid eyes upon the demi-Frenchamn, before beginning to race madly. As for his, nose almost bled.

"Do you like this, Kyouya?" asked Tamaki, in a timid, worried voice.

But Kyouya couldn't answer.

Tamaki had literally left him speechless. The boy looked a Greek statue; like a Greek statue, or perhaps a vision out of a classicist painting, but any rate something very old and very perfect. His "new costume", indeed very elegant and minimalist, consisted of only one long band of fine pure blue silk, which he had wrapped around himself with a skill only people like him could muster nowadays, so that is hung from his left shoulder and covered his privates and hindquarters; but it covered very little else. As the we have said, like a Greek statue.

Kyouya could see Tamaki's perfectly sculpted torso; he could see his slender if muscular arms; he could see his legs bare naked up to an almost obscene height, and the milky white skin of all his boys was only tainted on his cheeks with the slight red of a blush on his that made him but that much more adorable. In short, Kyouya said to himself that this must have been how the ancients had imagined the demigods Adonis or Narcissus, or at least as close to it as we'll ever get in this decadent age; well, he didn't phrase it exactly like that, but it was more or less his thoughts when he saw Tamaki. And yet in that perfect body, those sparkling blue eyes still felt noble shame and turned to the ground; and perhaps that was what made Kyouya's heart beat the hardest.

"So," said Tamaki, anxiously, still fleeing the black-haired young man's glance "How do you like it?"

"It's… it's good," said Kyouya, hypocritically.

He was desperately trying to keep from showing any emotion, but his voice was almost breaking.

"Oh…" said Tamaki, discouraged, "Just good?"

"No, that's not what I…" Kyouya began; but he stopped "Yes. Yes, it's good."

He really didn't know what he was saying. And for Kyouya not to know something, let alone his own words, the situation has to be pretty dire.

"Okay…" said Tamaki sulkily "I'll find something else."

And he turned away, as a sad look took over his face.

But seeing that face was what made Kyouya's heart overflow. It may have been just a fleeting melancholy of Tamaki's, a slight disarray at the denial of the fulfillment of one of his many caprices, but to Kyouya it seemed like the death of all happiness. And casting aside all pretentions, he jolted up his chair, ran after Tamaki, and caught him by the arm; a shiver went down his spine as he touched that naked white skin.

"Kyouya?" said Tamaki surprised, turning around "What do you want?"

Kyouya looked him in the eyes; he looked into those innocent, childlike, wondering blue eyes.

"Tamaki," he declared "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Then, he kissed him; and it was like everything he'd been keeping inside all his life broke loose.

Several hours later, Kyouya lay tangled amongst the red satin sheets in one of Tamaki's great, sculpted bed -he thought this one was mahogany, but he wasn't sure.

They'd made love so many times that even the calculating Kyouya, who it is said once beat the Deep Fritz Computer at chess, had lost the count. At first Tamaki was surprised, like with the kiss, and even a bit reluctant. But that blonde boyish prize was not something Kyouya would let go of, and soon the young man let himself be taken. And in one moment their tongues were twisting in each other's mouths, and soon thereafter they were themselves writhing in passion amidst the bed sheets.

Lying on the back, sideways, on all fours, they'd tried everything. Yet the remarkable thing was that, even when Kyouya pounded at his roughest, and Tamaki clearly had some pain mixed in with that pleasure –it was true that Kyouya was particularly well-endowed, and Tamaki was obviously a virgin-, not for a moment did the trusting, loving innocence of the blonde's blue eyes falter.

And still now, as Kyouya was laying on his back, naked amidst the satin sheets, an exhausted Tamaki was snuggled up trustingly against him, holding him tightly, with his head laid on his chest and his eyes closed and an idiotic smile on his face, as if wanting or needing nothing more than to feel him. He was certainly a sweet little craft to be taken care of.

"I love you, Kyouya-san" Tamaki muttered between his lips.

"I love you to, Tamaki-heika," said Kyouya, stroking Tamaki's blond hair.

The boy could barely muster up the strength to chuckle with satisfactionat being addressed as "your majesty".

And then Kyouya came to a realization. He came to this House because he loved Tamaki; and he loved Tamaki for the same reason he liked Tamaki's house.

Sometimes, things don't need to be useful; sometimes, things don't need to be efficient. Sometimes, the puerile indulgence of a young brat good, because a brat is a child, and children are innocent. Tamaki wasn't stupid; his heart knew this.

And Kyouya's life was so useful and efficient, so competitive, that though apparently he hated frivolity, deep inside him, his heart yearned for something that was both true and useless. That was why Kyouya was attracted to Tamaki.

Of course! That was why Kyouya put up with all of Tamaki's shenanigans, and played along with all of Tamaki's crazy schemes, and came to see him try on his insane costumes. It was because Tamaki was everything he wasn't, and therefore everything he needed. Tamaki not only dreamed, but believed and lived his dreams; and Kyouya needed someone's dreams to believe in; and perhaps more importantly, he needed someone to dream of him.

And, let's be honest, Tamaki certainly needed someone to take care of him. Besides, who knows? Maybe grandeur and dreams are more important than efficiency after all. What is the point of efficiency anyway?

As an ancient Greek poet once said "Who is? Who is not? Man is but the dream of a shadow".

And what, we ask, is life without a touch of poetry in it?

By the way, yes, the Host Club did put on the Ancient Greek costumes (specifically the second version thereof) that week, and they were a huge hit.


End file.
